Page 33 of Undeniable

Good. That was good. “You don’t have to tell me what he did. But if you want to…” I exhaled slowly, trying to be patient. “You can.”

“Thanks” she said. “Maybe another time.”

I nodded, trying to respect her wishes, difficult as that was. “How long have you worked there?” I didn’t even know the name of the company she worked for.

“Since graduating college.”

I stared at the ceiling, wondering if she was being purposely evasive. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was the one with SERE—survival, evasion, resistance, and escape—training.

“Where’d you go to college?”

“Stanford.”

Damn.I already knew Olivia was smart, but the fact that she’d graduated Stanford confirmed it. She must have had a scholarship or be loaded to afford an expensive school like that. It was a big reason I’d joined the Navy—to pay for my education.

“If you didn’t work in publishing, what would you want to do?” I asked.

“Hmm.” Even though I had no idea what she looked like, I could imagine her tapping a finger to her lips.

What color were they? How plump were they? What would they look like wrapped around my cock? I cleared my throat, shifting on the bed as the image of that threatened to distract me.

“Honestly…I’m not sure. Maybe marketing for a nonprofit.”

“That’s admirable.” I liked that she was focused on service, on giving back to the community. We had that in common. “What kind of nonprofit?”

“One that focuses on early childhood literacy or at-risk youth. In the past, I’ve helped my dad with some charity work, and I always enjoyed the ones that focused on kids.”

“Because you want to have kids of your own?” I cringed as soon as the words left my mouth, wishing I could take them back. For all I knew, she already had kids. Though I didn’t think that was the case.

“No.” She barked out a laugh, surprising me. “I mean, I’d like to have kids someday. But that’s not why. It’s because I was fortunate enough—despite my parents’ divorce—to have a good childhood. And I know not everyone is as lucky.”

“True,” I muttered, thinking how accurate that was for myself.

She was quiet for a moment, and I was afraid she’d push for more. But instead, she asked, “What about you?”

“What about me?” I asked, tucking my arm behind my head.

“Do you want kids? Already have some?”

“Don’t have any. Don’t want any,” I answered immediately.

My own childhood had been fucked up. I didn’t want to risk doing that to someone else. Let alone the things I’d experienced in the SEALs and with Hudson. The world was a dangerous place.

“If you hadn’t become a SEAL, what would you have done?” she asked, clearly sensing not to pry.

I closed my eyes briefly, trying to imagine a plausible answer. “Honestly, I don’t know. I never really thought about it. Being a SEAL was more than a career—it was my life, my family. Now, the same is true at Hudson.”

Which was a big reason why being suspended had been such a blow. My work was my identity. My life. Without it…well, I didn’t know who I was.

“I get that,” she said. “My best friend is more like a sister. And we haven’t shared bonding experiences like the intense ones I imagine you have at Hudson. At least based on what you’ve told me and what I’ve read online.”

I chuckled. “Someone’s been doing their homework. Have you always been this interested in executive protection?” I teased.

“I, uh…I kind of had to research Hudson and other companies that employ lots of veterans if—” First, she hesitated. Then she stopped short, and I wondered why.

“If what?”

“If I was going to pitch a program like Spines for Soldiers to my boss.”